Story of Prisoner 627
by CaptainLoganPrice
Summary: You've seen Captain Price's heroic move, the one that got him supposedly dead, but saved Soap and the rest of his team. But have you heard what happened within the walls of Price's prison?
1. Waking Up

Modern Warfare….

_**Iran**_

_**1996**_

_**Captain Price, AKA Prisoner 627**_

_**Status: MIA**_

_**Time and Date, Unknown.**_

Captain Price groaned, his eyes fluttering open. *Those bastards hit me with a f****** crowbar.* He thought angrily, moving his hands. The tight ropes dug into his skin, his ragged cuffs of his uniform not helping much. He jerked his head up as the metal door slid open, and a young, but power-full looking soldier stepped in. "Босс хочет тебя видеть." Price simply stared at him, unmoving as the soldier waited expectantly. When he didn't comply, the soldier hit him with the butt of his AK47. "Я сказал, прямо сейчас!" Price struggled to sit up straight again. "I don't know what the bloody hell you're saying!" He shouted, his head turned to lessen another blow if needed.

"Отбой, солдат, oтбой, солдат." A new voice sounded from the doorway. The young soldier stepped aside, quickly at attention. "Excuse young Kavala here, he does not speak English, and I presume you don't speak Russian?" the new man asked, lighting a cigar, and stepped into the light. "No need to worry, Captain Price, or shall I call you by your new name? Prisoner 627." He sneered. "I shall be your interpreter from this point on, 627. We shall get to know each other _**very **_well." He laughed softly, his high-pitched voice sounding like a stuck pig. Kavala hauled Price to his feet at the mere flick of the man's finger. "I am Alek. And Makarov wants to see you." He grinned evilly. Price struggled, his anger flaring. "Bloody right he wants to see me, you bastard! He jerked away from Kavala, who simply hit him again with his gun, knocking him to the ground. Price was too dazed to move as he fought to keep consciousness. He blacked out every few seconds, only able to see the floor, more jail cells, dungeons, and then a big, bright light. He black out again. When he came to, he was being dragged down a clean, white hall. Some Russian music was playing, and everything was clean and well organized. Women in scrubs were walking up and down, along with what looked to be doctors. They all glared at him, as a blood trail was left behind him from his bullet wounds. Price flinched as he heard screaming coming from one of the offices. And then it was cut short. He blacked out again.

_**Iran**_

_**1996**_

_**Captain Price, AKA Prisoner 627**_

_**Status: MIA**_

_**Time and Date, Unknown**_**.**

Price awoke with a groan, his head pounding. He flinched, as the light was too bright. He turned his face away, but rough hand grabbed under his chin, making him look straight at the light. He choked, his spit and blood gurgling in his mouth as the hand choked him in the process. When he was sure he was going to black out again, the hand let go. "What the Bloody Bla-" his gasped-out words were cut short as a fist connected with his jaw, and he heard a snap. He closed his eyes against the pain, spitting out blood, but even that hurt. "Maybe now you will shut up and listen." A nasally voice sounded. "You know, Price, I was very touched on how you sacrificed yourself to save your men. Too bad you couldn't save them from the real enemy at the moment." He sneered, adding "But you probably already know that, right?" Price said nothing, his head hurt so bad, he wished his head would explode, but he knew that couldn't happen. "So what do you want, Makarov? To kill me?" He spat. Makarov laughed. "No, my dear captain Price. No. I like to have insurance, and I will enjoy watching you squirm." He grinned, flicking his hand to Kavala, who picked him up. "by the way, think of Kavala as your own private guard." He smirked, and out Price was again.

_**Iran**_

_**1996**_

_**Captain Price, AKA Prisoner 627**_

_**Status: MIA**_

_**Time and Date, Unknown**_**.**

Price ate the food slowly, wishing it would last. His shoulder ached terribly, but he could do nothing. It had been what seemed like a week, but he had nothing to prove it with. His hands trembled, unable to be still after last night. Last night had been the worst. They wanted him to break, they were trying their hardest. He sighed, grunting with pain as someone kneed him in the ribs. "Get up, Price! No sleeping!" A new guard, Rocho, spoke angrily. Price's eyes flickered open, realizing that food had been a dream. The pain hit him again, in waves, and he almost screamed, breathing heavily as The guard pulled him from his cot, onto the floor, and began to hit him with a baton. "Stand up when I'm talking to you, dog!" The man screamed, enraged. "Ты, ублюдок! Думаю, что вы лучше, чем я?" The guard screamed in Russian. Suddenly, two other guards came in quickly, pulling Rocho off Price quickly. The guard continued to scream, until the other guar slapped him, speaking rapidly to him in Russian. Price's head swarmed, and blood pooled around his now ripped open wounds. Blood trickled out of his mouth, and he coughed, panic setting in. He was gonna die, here, in a cell, choking on his own blood like an insane person. He struggled to breathe, his breathing ragged, raspy, and choked. Alek stepped in, speaking rapidly to the guards, who carried Price, one holding his shoulders, the other his legs. The pain grew near unbearable, but Price was unable to make a sound, lest he lose the precious oxygen he was struggling to get. His eyes grew heavy, and his chest breathed like fire. "We are loosing him!" A woman's voice sounded, a younger voice. Cool hands touched his brow, gentle and firm. An English voice? Price shook his head, fearing he had gone mad. "Set him down there, you bastards, and let me work in piece." That pretty, _**English **_voice said. He barely felt the poke of a needle, and then faded to painless darkness….


	2. Miss English?

_**Russian Gulag**_

_**1996**_

_**Lillian Taylors, AKA Lily**_

_**Status: MIA**_

_**September 7, 1996**_

The gulag shook with the sound of the returning helicopters. Lillian Taylors, aka Lily, shuddered. That meant Makarov was coming. She forced her thought back to the soldier before her. He was a rough, filthy man, handsome, with a beard and a torn, dirty, special ops uniform. She wiped his face clean, careful of the cuts and bruises. Dried blood matted his hair, but she focused on his face. Handsome. A hint of humor, but it was long gone. Grayish eyes, brown hair. She turned, grabbing some more alcohol to dab on his shoulder. She got a Russian doctor to help take of his top gear. The Captain had strength, that's for sure. She watched as his broad chest rose and fell weakly. She laid a hand gently over his chest, feeling his heart going strongly. Unfortunately. She sighed. When he was better, he would have wished he had not survived that guard's brutal beating. She turned around once more, and stifled a yelp as a hand roughly grabbed her wrist, another circling around her waist. "Where am I?" the Captain who had been lying half dead on the cot stood, leaning against the cot, holding her captive, and she shuddered as she felt a scalpel gently touch her throat. She felt the man getting weaker. "Please, sir, sit down before you fall." She begged quietly. "I cannot lift you on my own, and if I have to get help, then they will throw you back in your dungeon. Then you will be in worse pain than before. " She waited, slowly, as the captain slowly let his hands fall to his sides. Lily whirled around, catching him before he completely fell, his adrenaline gone. He groaned with pain as she helped him lay down, breathing heavily, eyes wide and glazed. She injected him with some precious morphine. "I am sorry I can give you no more for the pain, Captain, my life is already at risk giving you more than I am allowed to give." She gently dabbed at his shoulder wound, with a wet, clean cloth. "What is your name?" She asked softly, trying to keep him awake. "John." The man spoke through parched lips. "John Price."

Lily stepped back as though he'd struck her. "Captain Price?" She squeaked, clearing her voice at once. "_**The **_Captain Price?" She sucked in a sob. The man that had the power and wit to save them was lying here half dead, strength sapped, and no plan and probably broken from the 3rd degree treatment he had received. He hadn't even gotten 2nd degree treatment, and yet, here he was, already half dead. A weak man. She quickly turned her back to the man, wiping away a lone tear that snick past her barricade. She took a breath, composing herself, and turned back to the man, pretending to have grabbed some more bandages. "It-it's a nice name." She stuttered. She busied herself with his shoulder. "You will keep quiet when Makarov comes to see you. Alek will be with him, so it will depend on how good your acting skills are to see how long you can stay here. Be unconscious, and you have more chance of staying here." she whispered, gently touching his face as the door opened before the men entering could see John's face. She turned, trying to ignore Makarov watching her every move with a lusty look on his face. She trembled slightly. Makarov had promised her many things of she would comply to his… more personal demands. She almost puked at the thought. She turned around, thankful that Makarov was standing next to the sleeping Captain. "How is he?" Makarov asked simply, his eyes drawing in Price's condition. "As you can see, not pretty." She retorted, anger rising. "He would be dead now if I hadn't been able to stop the internal bleeding. And, thanks to the gentle trip of dragging on the ground here, all his stitches came out, so I had to re-stitch them all again. And another blow like that to the head could kill him. It will take time for him to heal." Lily snapped, gasping as Makarov leaned forward smoothly, and kissed her, forcing her to remain still. She fought him, and moved her had sideways, as Makarov leaned back a bit, one hand holding her wrist, the other her waist. "You certainly are pretty when you are angry, моя любовь." she grimaced at the nickname he had given her. "I am not your love." She retorted, wrenching herself away from him. "I have refused you, Makarov. I am only a doctor, nothing more." She said angrily, sliding away from him. "For now, моя любовь." Makarov smiled evilly. "For now." He walked out.


	3. Lillian's Story

_**Russian Gulag**_

_**1996**_

_**Captain Price, AKA Prisoner 627**_

_**Status: MIA**_

_**Time and Date Unknown**_

Captain Price opened his eyes slowly, wishing he could put a bullet in Makarovs head. His anger had risen as he listened to the woman and Makarov speaking. Apparently, she was not here on her own terms. He moved his head slightly. "Some water, please." He rasped, and thankfully gulped down the small cup she brought him. "Who are you?" He rasped, the water cool on his dry, sore throat. "My name is Lillian Taylors, but you can call me Lily." she swept past him, hiding her tears. Or trying. "Does Makarov always go after you?" Price asked softly. At Lily's nod, his jaw tightened, and he ignored the pain. "Look, it is of no concern to you." Lily snapped, eyes sparkling. "I would rather die than agree to what that bastard wants me to do." She turned, ordering some cabinets. "Besides." She murmured. "I am safer than you." Price sighed. Why did he care? She was here, safe and from the looks of it, pretty healthy. But she was young, mid-twenties maybe. "How old are you?" He asked, amused at her shocked expression. "I am 34, but why does that matter?" Price gave as big a shrug as he could without killing himself from the pain. "Most Russians around here are well over 50s. Why are you here?" Lily sighed. "I was a doctor for a recon division, one for the Great Britain herself." Her eyes betrayed the longing in them. "I miss my homeland. It is nice to care and save someone from my country. But, long story short, I was helping my wounded brother, who was my team's leader, when Makarov put a bullet in his brain. The only reason he kept me was because his own men were wounded, the doctor dead. So I was employed." she remarked dryly. Price grunted, his eyes growing heavy with weariness. "So you are a prisoner here as much as me." He murmured, eyes closed. He drifted off to sleep with her final, soft-spoken words: "Yes, I am as prisoner here as much as you, John."


	4. New Cell Mates

_**Russian Gulag**_

_**1996**_

_**Captain Price, AKA Prisoner 627**_

_**Status: MIA**_

_**Time and Date Unknown**_

Price awoke, now strapped to the small gurney he was laying on. He pulled, but winced when the cuts reminded him they were still there. Lillian was no where in sight, but Price could make out a guard's silhouette in the door on the other side. He stopped struggling, but was far from relaxed. His eyes pricked with tears as he turned on his side, and could feel the threads of the stitches pulling at his wound. So much for extra morphine. He hesitated, then strained his neck upwards to see behind him, and gazed, almost tenderly, at the sight of Lillian sleeping on a small, thin cot, covered by an equally thin blanket. He stayed watching her for hours, his own eyes growing heavy again.

_**Russian Gulag**_

_**1996**_

_**Captain Price, AKA Prisoner 627**_

_**Status: MIA**_

_**Time and Date Unknown**_

Price was jolted awake by Kavala, who stood smiling broadly down at him. "Пора просыпаться гребаный британский капитан!" He said cheerfully, tugging him to sitting position even though he was still strapped down, making Price grunt in pain.

"Остановить его, вы злой свинья! Он ранен, не могу вам сказать, ублюдок?" Lillian jumped up angrily. She spoke a few more angry sentences at Kavala, who merrily grinned at her. He gave a quick nod, jerking Price off the gurney after unstrapping him. Lillian huffed with anger, unable to do anything. She whirled around, thrusting a small packet of bandages into Price's arms, under Kavala's careful watch. Then she was gone.

Price numbly stumbled after Kavala, only having gone a few steps and feeling tired. He sank gratefully into his small bunk, and glared in dismay as Kavala chained him to the bed. His eyes hardened even more as he spotted Alek watching him, smoking his old Russian cigar. "I see you hit it off with Miss Lillian." He chuckled evilly. "She's out of your league, 627. Makarov's already eyeing her." He laughed, flicking ash off his cigar thoughtfully. "Okay, now, new orders from Makarov. You will be kept with two other's in this cell, and you 3 will have to decide on the bunk." He grinned, already knowing it was going to be nothing but pain for Price. He turned and was gone, Kavala following him.

_**Russian Gulag**_

_**1996**_

_**Captain Price, AKA Prisoner 627**_

_**Status: MIA**_

_**Time and Date Unknown**_

Captain Price was awoken by spit landing in his face. He twitched, rolling over, only to feel the sharp pain from a slap in the face. He sat up quickly, aware of the low bunk, and kept his free hand up, in case he needed to use it. Before him stood a stocky, well built Russian man, with a broken, piggish nose, and black, sparkling eyes that outdid the devil's himself. Behind him, smoking a rare cigar, was a man hidden by the shadows. He was comfortable-looking, relaxed, but he looked ready to kill him at a moment's notice. Captain Price was smacked again. "You think you are better than us, British dog?" Growled the Russian. "I keeled many of you during the war, killing you will be a satisfaction." He grinned hungrily, his eyes not yet noting Price's cuffed hands. But his comrade did.

"For shit, let 'em be, Arkady. The bastards not done a bloody thing to you. And he's cuffed, you murdered ape, he can' bloody move to your orders, you bull." The man's voice held a bit of an accent, British himself, and he stood straight and walked over. He was dressed in a simple combat uniform, but an American flag stood out broadly from his chest. Marines.

"Who the bloody 'ell are you?" Price spat, his voice stronger now that his surprise was over.

"Relax mate, this is Arkady, and you might know me, I highly doubt it, in fact, im a bloody 99% sure you don't fuckin' know me. So let's keep it at that, but if you must, you can call me Cougar."

Captain Price snorted. "Cougar? What kind of name is Cougar, anyways? How'd a muppet like you get down here?" Remorse hit him: he had used those exact words to Soap. *I'm loosing it.* Price thought to himself. But it was true. That's who this man reminded him off. Soap. His F.N.G. Or best friend. Only man he truly trusted with his life, besides McMillan.

Cougar merrily grinned. "Well that, ya bastard, will have to figure that out for yourself, mate."

Arkady grunted, disgusted. "You two are like chickens squabbling over a kernel of corn. Never stopping to discuss the issue at hand." He turned to the corner, glancing out the door to see if there was any guards. "Clear here, Cougar."

Cougar grinned. "They fucking bloody 'ell expect Arkady and me to kill you, soldier. What are you? From looks of it, some fucked up, lost SAS captain by the looks of it." Cougar laughed, kneeling by Price and pulling out a small, round plastic spike, barely a centimeter thick. Within seconds, the cuffs fell. "Took me a few goddam years perfecting that move there, Captain. "What's your humble name, good sir?" Cougar smirked.

Captain Price glowered. "Captain John Price, 141 Task Squadron, soldier. And what were you, a bloody private?"

Cougar winced. "Ah, Captain, you think ranks really matter here? You're fucking wrong, mate. I am a captain too, but of who and what, that's confidential and doesn't need to be revealed. Hell, I'm dead anyway, even if I'm still fuckin' breathing down here." Cougar muttered, backing away to his shadow. "Want a smoke? Snuck it off a guard. Might be able to light it with what's left off mine, but I doubt it. Your fucking goddam lucky it was just me an' Arkady being sent here, and not one of Makarov's bloody fishin' buddies." Cougar spat on the floor. He lit a precious cigar, and after a few painfully long seconds, handed it to Price. "You owe me a good one, mate, but you look like you could use it, so you're off bloody free."

Captain Price inhaled the calming smoke gratefully. "Makes me remember I'm not out of this bloody fight yet, mate." He took another long, slow puff. "So what's with the accent, Cougar? You're American, but you sound chirpy and wise like us Brits."

Cougar laughed easily. "Well, we ever get out, Price, I'll tell you my life's story if you really wanna know, you bastard. By then we can stop for coffee breaks and have tea and cakes in her Majesty's palace." His tone fell flat, however. He took a puff of his cigar. "We most likely never goona get out of here, Price. Tried it since I was just a lad here myself. Funny, I followed in me dad's bloody footsteps, and here I am again." Cougar spat, hatred flaming in his eyes.

Price winced. This man was totally and suddenly consumed by hatred, then it was gone in an instant.

Arkady dozed against the door, bored of the English talk.

Captain Price shrugged painfully. "What's a boy got business doing in this hell hole, Cougar?"

Cougar's eyes shadowed, then dulled. For about 20 minutes, the man sat there, totally still and quiet. Price didn't say a word, watching him. Finally, Cougar spoke.


	5. Cougar's Story

_**Russian Gulag**_

_**1996**_

_**Captain Chad "Cougar" Conners, AKA Prisoner 369.**_

_**Spartan 060 team 1, 34430.**_

_**Status: KIA, Disavowed**_

_**Time and Date: Unknown**_

"My dad was a Brit. My mum was a Brit. I'm a bloody Brit, but that just mean we're all the more expendable, Price. Was shipped off to me dad when Mum died. Dad was SAS covert op stuff. He was working for Zakaiev then, Makarov being just a young pup compared to him. I was 12, too young to be doing anything like the things my dad would have me do. He was consumed with his job. If the mission failed, more life died within him. He was a sick bastard, and I never bloody liked him." He took another breath of his now diminishing cigar.

"What happened, Cougar?" Price asked quietly, treading this ground carefully. He needed to know if Cougar had ways and means to get out of this place.

Cougar smirked, then continued. "Zakaiev threatened my father, who faked loving me. Zakaiev then, falling for the bait, kidnapped the boy he loved so much. But I had other plans. My father had drilled me. A miniature soldier, I was called by his friends. I was to snatch Intel from wherever and whenever I could. Zakaiev didn't have a bloody clue. I took information right out from under his nose and passed it to my father, who was allowed to see me once a week. Different days, not following a schedule, so there was no chance of planning a rescue. Not that my father would have, even if I was in danger. He would have turned it into a test. But the hell with that. During that time, Zakaiev's son took an interest to me. We'd play commando up and down these halls, ignore the screams and wailing of wounded men and women who came here for whatever purposes. Of course, his son was just like me. A miniature soldier. He was my best friend, but didn't stick very close after his father found out my dad was just an undercover SAS agent instead of some poor Russian soldier who drunk too much and killed too many. Well, it was close enough to the truth. So, my dad was beheaded. I was given a small punishment, but since the Royal Crown and the military brass wouldn't give a ransoms for me, they treated me as any other prisoner here. But I escaped easily when I was 17, and joined the British Special Forces when I was still young, 19. The youngest ever. I rose in ranks, but I was still expendable because of who my dad had been. The new brass in town had been my dad's rival. I wasn't about to fall for that crap, so I didn't. I left for the U.S.A., who took me in with honors, and I was able to achieve the rank of a lieutenant, and was honored and known. Then I was involved with a mission concerning Makarov. Mission failed. I was promoted to Captain and sent in to clean up my brass's mess. Fucking ass-holes blow holes in my teams reputation, and theirs. The bloody clean-up was a setup, and they traded me and my team over to Makarov in order to tie up the loose ends, and make a few bucks on the side. Makarov remembered me, and took great pride in the bloody, goddam torture they sent me through. And yet, here I am. You, Captain Price, will never get out again. We all wont."

Captain Price's eyes softened, just a tiny bit. "That's a right bloody story, mate. And I'm sorry. Bu the brass has changed, and we've got some good men out there that can die if we don't get out and kill this cheeky bastard. We've got to leave."


	6. Arkady's Death

_**Russian Gulag**_

_**1996**_

_**Captain Price, AKA Prisoner 627**_

_**Status: MIA**_

_**Time and Date, Unknown**_**.**

Captain Price rolled over, then winced. His hand touched his side, and he felt a sticky wetness. Great. His bandage was bleeding through again. He heaved himself to the wall, and sat against it for support. He peeled off the bandage, biting down on his dog tag to help with the pain. Black dots danced in front of him, and he stopped, breathing heavily.

"Oi, mate, what the bloody hell you doing?" Cougar scolded softly, as to not wake Arkady. "Ah ya bastard, you opened it again." He gently removed the bandages from Price's hand. "Ah, looks like ya made a friend, eh mate? Lillian's a angel in disguise, I'm a'telling you." He gently removed the bloody bandage, and began to rewrap it.

"So what's Arkady's story?" Price wheezed, the pain almost unbearable.

"Ha, mate, it's a pretty simple one. A soldier who drank too much, killed too little, and made off with all of Makarov's girls." He chuckled at his own joke. "He also helped to build Soviet nuclear weapons." He stated matter-of-factly. "But was caught giving the Americans Intel. That was 6 years ago mate."

Price glanced at Arkady's sleeping form in amazement. "Six bloody years. How long have you been here?"

"Oh, about 16 years now mate. Makarov doesn't want me dead yet."

Price gazed at him in shock. "16 bloody years, mate?" He asked in utter amazement.

"Oi, but there's a fella who's been in here for 50 years mate. He's 70 somethin' now." Cougar replied casually. "Makarov's an evil bastard, scares the devil himself. Make's fucking Afghan a walk in the park. I went through 3rd degree treatment for 14 years here. Worst pain in your fucking life, mate." His eyes glazed over, deep in thought. "What you've felt just now, that's just the beginning of your hell, my friend."

Price couldn't surpass a shudder. "What a fucking hell-hole, mate."

Cougar became deadly serous. "No my friend. Hell would be much better." He jumped up as Kavala came in.

"Пора идти, Cougar."

Cougar paled slightly and swallowed hard. "Конечно Макаrov не будете хотеть видеть его сейчас?"

The guard's face hardened. "Da!" He shouted, shoving Cougar away. He stomped towards Arkady. He conversed with the now awakened man, and Arkady began to scream and beg for something in Russian.

Cougar let out a growl and lunged at the guard, punching him in the stomach and pulling his head down to connect with his own knee, making Kavala drop to the floor, his face pouring blood. Cougar rushed to Arkady. "Run my friend!" Cougar shouted. "Go Go!" he pushed him out, handing him the AK47 with it's extra magazines. "Go! I cannot leave, I am cursed of this place. Besides, I cannot leave Price!" He urged the man, who hesitated, then took off. Cougar shut the cell door, then knelt down besides Kavala. "Time for your turn to die." He hissed, pulling Kavala's melee knife out of it's sheath, and slit the guards throat open slowly, making Kavala scream, blood squirting from the wound. Cougar held his mouth keeping him silent as he bled out. When he was dead, Cougar dragged him out, and shut and locked the door. A few seconds later, sirens went off, and Cougar sat on the bunk, his head in his hands. Guards ran past the cells, screaming in anger. Cougar cleaned the knife, and hid it in his shirt.

"Why the bloody hell didn't you run?" Price growled weakly.

"Because you are injured, Price, and you cannot leave just yet. If you want to escape, you must be at full strength. But even then, you probably wont make it." Cougar whispered, his face hidden by his hands. "Fuck!" He screamed, jumping to his feet and punched the wall.

Price flinched, that couldn't have felt good. "Calm down!"

Cougar spat "Fuck you, Price! Fuck this place!" He sat down, suddenly looking tired.

Price worried for Cougar's mental state. "Cougar, talk to me mate! What the bloody hell is wrong?"

Cougar gave a whimper. "Arkady's dead. Once those sirens go off, you're dead. First, the block off the tunnel you are in. Big, 2 foot think metal doors. They let the tear gas in first, then let the dogs in. If you are still alive when the dogs are through with you…" He sighed. "Fuck me. I just sent him to his bloody death. Arkady may be smart, but he's not that smart. He's terrified of dogs. He's dead, Price. That's the best punishment you could get if you are caught escaping."

Price replied sternly "Then we don't get caught, soldier. Cougar, we Will get out of this. I promise you."

"Ay, you bastard. Don't raise your- my- hopes up." He turned to Price, helping him to the bunk. "I'll wake you when anything happens." He promised Price softly, then guarded the door as Price fell into a restless sleep….


	7. I Did What I Had To, Price

_**Russian Gulag**_

_**1996**_

_**Captain Price, AKA Prisoner 627**_

_**Status: MIA**_

_**Time and Date, Unknown**_**.**

Captain Price awoke. Cougar was standing right where he had been before, and probably hadn't moved.

"You awake then mate?" Cougar asked without turning to him softly. "I was worried you'd left me hear alone." He joked, but his eyes were dull. "Makarov's going to give us a new cell mate. He keeps three at a time together. I heard the new guard talking 'bout it, but I couldn't catch either of their names."

Captain Price swore. "Bloody Makarov!" He spat, sitting up slowly. His wounds were much better, but he still had a fever and the wounds were a little red and tender.

Cougar walked over, pushing him back down. "Easy mate. I heard Lillian's coming to check up on ya, so behave." Cougar smiled sadly.

"What the bloody hell did you do?" Price murmured, gazing up at his friend. A visit from Lillian wasn't bloody free.

Cougar sighed. "Just a favor, mate. You'd do the bloody same for me."

Price growled "No. I am fine. Call off your deal or whatever you promised!"

Cougar whirled around angrily. "Price! Listen to your fucking self talk! You wont last another day if those stitches aren't strengthened and given a dose for your fever and to help with infection. And that stuff doesn't come free for prisoners! I will do what I have to, You're my teammate now, and if you want to get out of here, you need your strength." His voice lowered at the last words. "I will be fine, Price, I've been through worse." Cougar turned, hiding his true feelings. Actually, he had heard that the price for helping another inmate was almost deadly. The few that had experienced it called it "The Death Brink" because you totally encouraged the guards and torturers to kill you during the procedure. But Price needed help.

Captain Price glared at his friend. "Bloody hell!" He spat, leaning back, defeated. "Cougar, make it back, would'ja mate?" He asked softly, his voice breaking slightly.

Cougar turned around. "Lillian's here." He said simply, giving Price a small smile. He watched as the guard escorting Lillian opened the cell door. He pushed Lillian in.

Lillian headed to Cougar first, hugging him tightly. She gave him a kiss. "Good luck, Cougar." she said softly. She turned to Price, taking a deep breath. "John." She said in greeting, taking off his top clothing. "Blasted stitches aren't strong, that's for sure." She muttered, then finished in a few minutes. Cougar was on the far side of the cell, so she glanced up at him. "He'd rather die than loose another." She said softly. Lillian popped a pill in his mouth. "Swallow." She ordered.

Price smiled, and swallowed the pill. "Thanks." He murmured.

Lillian smiled. "Your welcome, John. The least I can do." She kissed him softly on the cheek. "Good luck. Here's some extra bandages in case Cougar comes back-" She didn't finish the sentence.

The guard growled in broken English "out of there, you b-"

"Shut your trap, soldier!" Alek snapped from the side. "That's Makarov's girl in there."

The guard quickly muttered an apology.

Lillian stood. "I must go. Be careful." she whispered to both men. And left.

Price watched her go. He hated this feeling, a man suffering for him to live.

Cougar must have sensed it. "Let it go, mate. I'll be fine." He promised, gently placing a hand on Price's shoulder. "Captain Price, I _**will**_ be back. Don't die on me." He slipped the knife into his hand, hidden by the guard with his arm. "Good luck with the new inmate." But his eyes held a stern order: Use the knife if necessary.

Captain Price nodded. "Bloody later, mate." He replied softly, nodding. "The fucking bastards wont touch me." For the first time in a _**very**_ long time, Price felt alone. Cougar was his only friend in here, besides Lillian, and had and was risking his life for him. And possibly loosing it.

"Time to go, asshole." the guard snapped at Cougar, who simply nodded. He stood quietly, the guard securing him in handcuffs. "You're gonna wish you'd never laid eyes on the bastard you're helping when I'm done with you." He snarled, leading Cougar away.


	8. Cougar's Past

_**Siberia**_

_**1989**_

_**Captain Chad "Cougar" Conners, AKA Prisoner 369.**_

_**Spartan 060 team 1, 34430.**_

_**Status: En route to intercept Makarov**_

_**Time and Date: 12 Am, May 26, 1989**_

"Lasky, I swear, if you're late again…" Cougar growled, not finishing the sentence.

"On my way, Captain." Lasky replied. "Ran into some trouble up near the mountains."

"And I care why?" Cougar snapped tersely. "You're late, and them Brits aren't happy, and I'm not thrilled either mate."

"Cool off, Captain." Death, his lieutenant, murmured. "We still got a few minutes before our escape route is gone."

Cougar huffed. "Thanks for the reminder, mate."

"That's what I'm here for, sir. Keep you wary." Death chuckled.

"If you two muppets are done, we're ready to go since yesterday." Growled the SAS captain, who's name was grief. Literally.

"Captain Grief, there's activity on the scanners, Sir." a SAS soldier reported to his captain. "The insurgents are mobilizing."

"Right. Cougar, get your sniper up on the ridge. O'Dellay, take watch with Cougar's man. My squad and I will flank from the nor-"

"Oi, get your bloody selves killed." Cougar interrupted quickly. "I'm not trying to start a fight here, sir, but that plan is stupid. The men have some good sniping positions of their own, and can and will easily pick us off."

The SAS men looked at their captain, bewildered. No one had spoken to him like that.

Captain Grief scowled. "You have a better plan, Blood Yankee?"

Cougar refused to flinch at the name. Ever since he went to America, the Britain military had dishonored him, giving him the nickname Blood Yankee, for the favored word "Bloody" for Britain, and the American term, "Yankee" because he was both. A traitor to them.

"Of course I do. An all-out assault." At the Captain's scoff, he continued. "Think of it. They think anyone's too dumb to try to attack directly, and they are right. It's dumb. But they have focused their defenses farther from their base. If we can get to the control room, we can control the entire compound. Including the hanger, which contains our exit point." He leaned back. "And there you have it mates."

Death chuckled. "I once again agree with the Capt. He's right. Lasky did say the more protected areas was the roads farther out, along with the woods. They weren't protected for a close attack, which was why we could just skydive right under their goddam noses."

Captain Grief growled. "Fine. But this mission goes south, it's all on you, Blood Yankee." He sneered. "I'll rally my men."

Cougar and Death watched the SAS captain stalk off. "Feisty, ain't he sir?"

Cougar sighed. It pained him to see his own countrymen believe the lies M16 told them about him, and hurt him even more to see the new FNGs believe the stories too. All he had done for his country, was being stripped away by every story being told to a new recruit.

Death sense his captain's mood. "Easy sir. Those bastards don't know the truth, only what's been fucking fed to 'em." He rested a hand on Cougar's shoulder. "But we believe ya."

Cougar smiled, comforted by his lieutenant's words. He had always been close to Death, especially after the day in Basic when Death, then Tom, tried to convince him he didn't belong in America, that he was too weak. After that fight, Cougar had won before the instructors could pull him off, and Death had been his closest friend and ally since.

"Reporting for duty, sir!" Lasky rushed in, breathless. "Sorry sir, was hung up by some civies near the farm li-" He cut off as he noticed Death pull on his baklava. "Right. Sorry sir." He grinned boyishly. "But I got something you're gonna love." He motioned outside the tent, and in stalked a gorgeous, late 20ish woman with bright, but dark, auburn, shoulder-length hair.

"Captain."

"Jamie Scarlet. What. A. Surprise." Death drawled, his southern accent persistent. "Finally accept my dinner invitation?"

Jamie smirked. "Not yours, but close to you, Death."

Death's shoulders fell. "Right, some crazy Captain who refuses you ain't gonna help you much, Jay." Death chuckled, glancing at Cougar.

"Shut. The. Bloody. Hell. Up."

Jamie laughed at Cougar's reddening face. "It's okay, Cougar, I forgive you for stalling for the time being."

Cougar flushed bright red.

Death let out a howl. "Lasky, get out before Cougar is forced to knock this entire scene from your brain after this."

Lasky chuckled, and walked outside.

Cougar sighed. "Can it mate. Jamie" He turned to face her. "Why are you here?"

"To give some more Intel, and provide some support. I have Ginger on the line, she flying her FA-16 Hornet right now, and she's ready for some excitement." Jamie replied, putting down a grid. "She can only fly so low, though, before the trees block her view. So if you want, attack directly, but hang back, and let them come to you. Ginger can take care of the rest, if you take out the missiles and RPGs."

Death's eyes twinkled. "Cougar already thought of the direct approach."

Jamie smirked, glancing at Cougar. "Great minds think alike." She teased dryly.

Cougar grinned. "Probably. Radio Ginger, tell her to lock on to our signal, and get ready to fire ahead of us. The SAS captain will be fighting beside us, so don't go after stragglers."

"Yes sir!" a voice sounded from a com. "Copy that, and I'm locked on to your signal, Cougar."

"Bloody hell Ginger! You scared the 'aylights outta me!" Cougar growled, having recovered from his surprise at Ginger's voice in his ear.

"That's why I'm here, big brother." Her smirked could be heard from the mike. "To keep you awake. Tell Death I love him, but don't steal my kills."

Cougar snorted at his sister, who had been raised in the U.S.A. "He may be your lover and fiancé, but I'm not your errand boy." He argued.

"Do it or I'll tell Jamie-"

"Shut up sis, I'll tell 'm for yer." Cougar grumbled good naturedly. "Now get ready."

"Roger that, Ginger out."

Death chuckled. "and what did my lovely soon-to-be wife have to say?"

Cougar sent him a glare. "Dude, that's gross. She's still my sister. She said she'll shoot you if you steal her kills."

Jamie and Death laughed, making Cougar fight to avoid grinning.

"Alrighty, I'll tell Weird out here of the plan." Death conceded, and exited the tent, leaving Jamie and Cougar alone. Cougar shifted awkwardly.

"Remember that night in Moscow, Cougar? When you were still with the SAS?" Jamie said dreamily, her eyes distance.

"Yeah. In the hotel, room 316? Yeah, I remember, Jamie." Cougar replied, almost tenderly. "But we both agreed it wouldn't work."

"And do you remember why? We fought for different sides then, Cougar. Dam, we fought together, but not for the same thing. But now, we are _truly_ fighting together." Jamie insisted, drawing closer to Cougar, one of her hands resting on his chest. "It can work now, Cougar."

Cougar stiffened as her hand traveled up to his face, and her left hand rested on his shoulder. "Jamie-"

"Cougar what's holding you back?" Jamie interrupted gently. She pressed closer, so they were facing each other.

Cougar looked pained. "Me, Jamie." With that, he turned, grabbing his m14 and walking out into the cold.

_**A few hours later….**_

Cougar watched as the SAS team ran to cover, returning fire, but conserving their ammo. Cougar and his team held back. It consisted of Cougar, Death, Rock, Bear, and Flint, with newly added Jamie and Ginger. He glanced at the SAS team. He knew only 3 of their six-manned team, Captain Grief, of course, and Trouble, and the FNG of the team, Archer, who had just joined. He sighed.

Death laughed next to him. "Outnumbered 10 to 1, and you having second thoughts? What did Jamie say to you in there?" He ducked, a bullet ricocheting off a rock next to him.

"Nothing to concern yourself about!" Cougar shot back, chuckling. "Ginger, now!"

The air was filled with a rumbling noise, as Ginger navigated her jet down low, firing rapidly, shooting a few missiles for good measure.

"OooRah! There goes my baby!" Death cheered, as the battlefield quickly became silent.

"Only a few left inside! We must hurry before the ones behind us get here!" Captain Grief shouted, and led the teams inside.

"Cougar, 3 o'clock!" Jamie shouted, her sniper shot missing the soldier.

Cougar grunted as a bullet spun him around, his left leg burning like fire. "Mother fuck-"

The soldier dropped dead, Death behind him. "We've got to go! We need to get to the control center, there's more in here than we thought." Death helped him up.

Cougar wrapped a arm around his neck, picking up his m14 and limped as quickly as he could next to Death. He paled. "Hold the bloody door!" He screamed at Lasky, who was in charge of the door, which was at least 2 feet thick of pure steel and lowering itself.

Death grunted. "Sorry sir!" He grabbed Cougar's wrists and slid him under the door, diving just in time next to Cougar.

Cougar winced against the pain, then glared up at Lasky, who's face was stricken. "Sir, I-"

"Shut the bloody fuck up." Cougar whispered in a deadly tone, giving a grunt as Death took a look at his leg.

Lasky let his hands fall to his side, his sniper rifle resting next to him against the wall. His face was stricken, but there was something else there. Horror.

Death sighed. "Went right through, but nicked the bone a bit, that's the cause for the pain. Just a bit higher, and you woulda hit the artery, sir, and we might not be having this talk."

Captain Cougar glanced at Grief. "Here's the launch codes. These codes are modified, so these nukes will fire, but simply keep going straight up till they are in space, then they will detonate."

Grief flicked his hand, and Archer walked forward. "Thanks mate." The FNG gave a cautious smile at Cougar, then took the paper with the codes. He entered them, then stepped back as the missiles fired.

Cougar leaned against the wall. "Okay, Ginger, thanks for the support. Go on back. Jamie, you too."

"Roger that, Cougar. See you then!" Ginger smiled. "Tell Death I love him and got something waiting back at base!"

Cougar's face twitched. "Gross."

Jamie's laughed sounded over the com, but she sounded different. Malicious, almost. Cougar gave a small shiver. "Jamie?"

Jamie stopped, but added "Roger that, _Cougar_." She purred. "Goodbye, for the last time." The mike clicked, signaling it was dead.

Cougar sighed, his mind whirling as he turned him com to the right channel his team had. "That was strange. Death, your wife says hi." He smiled, but he was still troubled.

Death smiled. "Just a few more minutes, and those nukes with explode, and we can go. Makarov wasn't here after all, but at least we got the codes in."

Captain Grief smiled smartly. "Right. Me and my team will wait outside. Archer, make sure those radars are clear in here."

Lasky nervously watched Grief walk out, then glanced at Archer, who, instead of monitoring the grid, nodded solemnly and stood next to Lasky. "Tell 'em mate."

"Tell me what, sergeant?" Cougar asked sternly.

Lasky glance at Death, who looked at Cougar.

Cougar nodded. "Give me a minute with them, Death."

Archer watched Death go, then turned to Cougar. "It wasn't Lasky's fault, sir." He said confidently.

"What?"

"I didn't close the door, sir." Lasky said quietly.

"What the bloody hell do you mean? It _closed_ magically?" He retorted sarcastically.

"No sir-" Archer began, but Cougar cut him off. "Shut it. Lasky, I want to hear this from you."

"It was Grief. He asked me to close the doors the exact time he saw you get shot. I-I didn't want to do it, but he said his-our- job would be much easier if it ended here. Sir, I didn't know what the fuck he was saying, but I didn't, and I told him you and Death were still out there, but he closed the door, saying I would regret not listening to him."

Archer nodded, a bit more respective. "I heard the whole thing, sir. I just joined the Force 352nd, but I know a death order when I bloody hear one, sir. And I don't agree to ones on friendlies." He finished softly.

"So you're trying to tell me, Captain Grief, a decorated and honorable SAS captain, a vet, was trying to have me and my Lt. _killed_?"

"Yes sir." Both snipers mumbled meekly, but earnestly.

Cougar slumped, head whirling. Jamie's words came back, and he didn't know what to make of it. "Archer, send Grief in here, please."

Archer hesitated, but went at Cougars cool gaze. "Lasky, stay here with me."

Captain Grief came in, closing the door behind him, locking it. Lasky paled.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Cougar growled, struggling to his feet as Grief walked up to him.

"Stay the bloody hell down, you bastard." Grief kicked him, sending curling up, coughing as he held his stomach.

"Hey!" Lasky rumbled, his rifle already in hand.

Cougar yelled. "NO! LASKY!"

Lasky dropped his gun.

Grief grunted, his hand with the pistol wavering.

Cougar watched, horrified, as Lasky fell to the ground, his lifeless hand clutching his uniform on his chest, blood starting to spread in the uniform.

Grief chuckled, but his voice was raspy. "And that, Blood Yankee, is how you get rid of a _loose_ end."

Cougar felt his eyes prick, but he blinked the tears away. "You and Jamie thought it up."

"What? Hell no, Blood Yankee, it was _ordered._ Grief grinned evilly, not even noticing the blood pouring from his wound on his arm. "Both governments have had enough of your failures." He smirked. "Even if it was just _once._"

Cougar swallowed hard, anger flashing in his eyes, he struggled to stand, but Grief pinned him down, pushing hard on his chest, driving Cougar's air out. He struggled to breath.

"Yes. You feel that, Cougar? The struggle, the want, to breath? But you can't, can you?" He chuckled again, voice husky. "I've hated you from the moment I first heard of you, Cougar, then the first time I saw you, I almost shot you myself. But your bloody lieutenant asked a few too many questions, and I lost my shot. Lucky for you." He sneered.

"You tried to bloody kill me. You killed my sniper. You SON of a BITCH!" Cougar screamed, coughing violently from the lack of oxygen, his chest on fire from the struggle.

Grief laughed, then let up.

Cougar sucked in a breath, gasping.

Grief kicked Cougar, breaking his nose. He laughed, watching the blood pour. "All those things you did in Afghanistan, Iran, Congo, Siberia, Germany…" Grief named other countries. "And the gulag. Did you really think the SAS military was done wif you?" He spat. "And now, since you failed to get Makarov-"

"But Makarov was the fuck here!" Growled Cougar, coughing with every breath. "THEIR FUCKING INTEL WAS WRONG!"

Grief shrugged. "So what. Their fault, but it was found by _your_ agent. Alex, wasn't it? Well, I assume they've got 3, clean bullets in his, his wife's , and his little girl's head too." Grief grinned, evil in his eyes. But what you don't understand, _Blood Yankee, the Americans ASKED us to rid us of you.  
_

Cougar's eyes widened, horror in them. "No." He whispered, throat dry.

"Haha, Oh yes, Cougar. You displeased them too. Makarov found out you failed, and threatened to expose them. Well, they made this plan up, because, on your way here, Makarov told them they were wrong. And made a deal with them. He wants you alive, Cougar. And I am with the greatest of pleasure, to deliver you, with pleasure from me and the brass, of course." He sneered. He opened the steel door.

A Russian stepped forward, his voice nasally. "Well well, if it isn't little Chad."

Cougar paled. "Vladimir Makarov." He whispered hoarsely.

Makarov grinned. "Yes, it's me, Chad. Did you really think I would forget what you did to Zakaiev?"

"NO! NO!" Cougar screamed, as they dragged him away, down the hall. The last he saw, was Grief slipping away… Back to his team…. And Cougar's….


	9. Ash's Arrival

_**Russian Gulag**_

_**1996**_

_**Captain Price, AKA Prisoner 627**_

_**Status: MIA**_

_**Time and Date, Unknown**_**.**

Price groaned, rolling over. The morphine had completely worn off, and he could feel every injury quite clearly. He sat up, glaring at the tiny door which the window hole was filled with guards head, and he was laughing. "Keep laughing, you bastard." Price growled, feeling the sharp tip of the blade reassuringly. Cougar had given him orders, and although Price hardly followed anyone's direct orders besides Baseplate's and Shepards, Price had obeyed Cougar. Still was. He heard the shuffling of feet, and the creaky door opened. And in was shoved a young, clean shaven young man. A boy. Who'd definitely been through the wringer.

The guard spat on the boy, the shut the door with a bang.

Price stood shakily to his feet, then stumbled to the ground next to young human being who probably was some innocent person picked up alongside the road. And tortured to make Price feel guilty.

"Get yer 'ands off me." The boy slurred, his voice light and soft.

"Drugged, too. Bloody bastards." Price growled, noting the spreading blood stain around the boy's stomach.

The boy groaned and tried to push Price away seeing what he was about to do. "No, Fuck don't-"

Price ignored him and unbuttoned the boy's shirt to examine the boy's wounds, and stopped short. "You're a girl." He stated bluntly.

"Aye, at what gave that away?" The girl spat, pulling her shirt together. "Happy now? Gonna have your fucking way with me now like those bastards outside?"

Price's eyes flashed anger, and the girl shrank back in terror, but resentment was still in her eyes.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Price growled, emotion in his voice. Kids. Bloody children. "Makarov's made this personal now." Price spat, standing up as he walked unsteadily to the bunk.

"Who-who are you?" The girl stammered, bravely keeping a defiant look on her face.

Price softened. "John. Name's John. What's your name, sweet?" He walked near her, kneeling down.

The girl looked at him with big blue eyes. "I'm Ash. I'm 14. I was studying overseas when a group of soldiers in black stormed a ship carrying me and my family back to Russia. A man the soldiers called Makarov singled me out to punish my father for speaking against him in a world court. Now papa is being forced to try to protect Makarov's interests in order to keep me alive." She let out a shudder. "Alive, but far from safe." At this, a tear fell, her dirty blonde hair cut short.

Price felt bile rising. "Hey, you're safe right here for now, Ash." He let a hand settle on her shoulder comfortingly, and was surprised when Ash instead hugged him. She began to sob, terror in her voice, her trembling body, as she broke down, hugging the only human possible of offering her protection.

"I'm scared." She whispered, sniffing as she hugged him tight.

Price engulfed her in a bear hug, ignoring his wounds. "Sh… It's alright, Ash. We can get outta here someday." He murmured, gently stroking her hair. He continued to hold her, and only after the guard was relieved with the night watchemen, did Price realize Ash was asleep, nestled close to his heart. He softened , gently carrying her to the bunk, and laid her down. She whimpered slightly, the cool jail freezing to her thin t-shirt and torn jeans. Price covered her in the only blanket, which was filthy, but it would do. He settled down beside the bunk, leaning against it. He would wait for Cougar, with every last breath.

_**Russian Gulag**_

_**1996**_

_**Captain Price, AKA Prisoner 627**_

_**Status: MIA**_

_**Time and Date, Unknown**_**.**

Price awoke to the door opening, and Cougar being dropped in. He struggled to his feet, limping to his injured cellmate. He felt lightheaded at the sight of him, and quickly threw up in a corner, a sign of weakness he normally could have avoided if he wasn't already sick. He ignored the thought and focused on Cougar, who was barely breathy.

Cougar's entire body was covered in blood, dirt, and grim, not an inch of him was clear of his own blood. His face was cut, open, raw flesh suggesting knife and whip marks. His nose was definitely broke, and his leg was twisted in an odd way. A few fingers were swollen, suggesting possible brokerage there as well. But what worried Price was the deep, dark gash on his temple. And the fact that Cougar was hardly breathing.

Price gently woke Ash. "Ash, this is my friend Cougar, who went through some things to save my life. He needs the bunk more than you, but I cannot lift him by myself. Can you help me?" At the girl's terrified nod, Price lifted his shoulders, and Ash lifted his legs. Between them, they managed to get Cougar off the cold ground. Price glanced at the blanket, then began to tear it into shreds, making makeshift bandages.

_**Few Hours Later…**_

Price sat against the far wall, Ash snuggled close to him. He spotted Cougar's eyes flicker, and he gently removed Ash's head and laid her down gently on his coat, leaving his torso covered only in his black t-shirt.

He knelt down beside Cougar. "Oi, Suzy, you made it back." Price said softly, gently but firmly pressed down on a stab wound near Cougar's ribs.

Cougar coughed up blood. "This is third-degree treatment, Price. The kind I put up with for too bloody long." He choked. "Its not enough to kill you. Just let you see how merciful death really is."

Price sucked in a breathe. "Our cell mate is a bit worried about you."

"The girl?"

"Yep. Ash. She helped me care for your wounds a bit, but your leg is broke in one spot, but not a compound break. It's simply, should heal. Your fingers, two were broke, jest don't move 'em and they will heal. Stab wounds aren't fatal, and your ribs should heal. But what worried me was up here." He tapped Cougar's head.

Cougar winced. "That bloody hurt."

"Yes, and it also kept you out for a few hours."

"Why is Ash here?"

Price sighed. "I'm guessing you know. Its metal they're now trying to fuck up." He sighed. "Scenario, let me get close to her, feel sorry, then they take her out and kill her. They've already hurt her." He glanced at Ash with a fatherly, protective look.

Cougar swore. "Age?"

"14. Makarov's making it personal."

"Bloody son of a bitch." Cougar spat out some blood, looking tired. "Still got the knife?"

"Affirmative."

"Fat luck that's gonna do us to get outta here."

Please review, tell me what you think of the story so far, please! I would love to know what to add and how to make it more interesting!


	10. Ashes to Ashes Again

_**Russian Gulag**_

_**Last date known: 1996**_

_**Captain Price, AKA Prisoner 627**_

_**Status: MIA**_

_**Time and Date, Unknown**_**.**

**~Price's POV~**

Cougar healed relatively quickly, considering the conditions, although his shin gave him quite a bit of trouble, especially when it reached below freezing in the cells. It had been nearly a month, and the guards mainly left them alone, which was part of the reason they had been able to keep hold of the knife this long. And made it easier for me to get closer to Ash, which is what he _**did not**_ want happening, but it did anyway. I had often wondered what it would like to have a daughter, or just be a father, and right now, I was pretty sure I knew what it felt like. Ash was still warming up to Cougar, who, on the other hand, turned out to be terrified with anyone under the age of 16, the legal recruiting age.

"Cougar, who bombed the Whitehouse in, I think, 1807?" I asked, thinking about the Civil War, after Ash told me what she had been learning before all this.

"Learn your bloody history, mate. You're the British here."

"Language, Cougar." Ash scolded him. She swore just as colorfully as the both of us, but refrained from using it only in extreme conditions. Like when the guards would glance at us every 4 hours.

"You fuckin' a-holes don't know when to quit, do you bastards!" She'd yell at them, her eye flaming.

Cougar simply chuckled. Most of the guards didn't know English, so they just scowled, or in some cases, grinned, and walked away. "Smart kid you got there, Price."

"His name's John, Cougar." She'd glare at him, and Cougar shut up, moody and pouting quietly in the corner.

"Hey, I never learned your name, Cougar, now that I think of it, mate." I said cheerily.

"Yeah, what is it, Cougar?" Ash demanded.

Cougar swallowed hard.

"Out with it, mate." I said with a chuckle.

Cougar simply shook his head. "It's not who I am anymore."

Ash scowled, standing up and marching over to him. "Cougar, give me a name!" She demanded, and boy, did Cougar cower. He refused to get close to Ash, and when she had found this out, she enjoyed torturing him, by merrily getting within 2 feet of him. Cougar began to sweat, despite the chilling temperature.

"No." He said, moving a fraction of an inch away, clearly uncomfortable with Ash's closeness.

"Cougar, come on, please?" Ash simply stepped forward, grabbing on to his arm. "PLEASE?"

Cougar shook her off. "You bloody muppets." Before Ash could open her mouth to reprimand him, he quickly added "Okay! Okay. Chad. My name was Chad."

Ash grinned. She won. Again. Cougar was quickly seeming less of a dangerous, U.S. Marine, and more of a terrified man facing a monster when Ash was around him.

I chuckled. I actually enjoyed the little spitfire, which was what I affectionately called her. And she would let him.

A few hours later, I awoke with a start. Someone was coming in.

Cougar leaped to his feet, hatred in his eyes. "Vladimir Makarov." He spat, glaring at the man now with them in the cell.

Ash trembled violently behind me. _**This**_ was the man that had hurt her, I was sure of it now. I glanced at Cougar, who warned me with his eyes not to go for the knife, which I foolishly had left under the mattress of the bunk. *So much for the SAS training* I thought angrily to myself.

Makarov peered at me, amused. "Babysitting, Price? I didn't think you had it in you." He flicked his hand, and two, giant, burly Russian guards came in heading straight for me and Ash. Cougar let out a roar of rage and took a step forward, only to be hit with the butt of Makarov's pistol, sending him to the floor. The scar on his temple showed Makarov where to hit.

I tensed, getting into my fighting position.

"Give her up, Price. You can't save her. You can't save anyone." Makarov murmured, looking at me with those icy eyes of his.

"Shut up, yer bloody bastard." I growled, but my mind screamed at me. I couldn't protect her. Not like this, with nowhere for her to hide, and two men ganging up on me. I wasn't back to full strength either, we never were.

"John!" Ash screamed, terrified, as one of the guards grabbed her. I rushed at him, using my hand to push his head down. It connected with my knee, and he gave a cry of pain. The other guard whirled me around by my shoulder, and I flinched, but only for a moment. I punched his nose, and he stumbled back. He stood again, his nose bloody and broken. He swore at me in Russian, but then it hit me. Literally. I stumbled to my knees, groaning, as the other guard stood behind me, wielding a baton like a sword. He hit me again and again, and I coughed up blood, unable to move. Cougar's face twisted with pain and anger, unable to move with Makarov's gun pointed at his head. Finally, after what seemed like years, the men stopped.

Ash screamed and sprinted to my side, and with amazing strength, set my shoulders and head on her lap, and she sobbed uncontrollably as she glared the two men, who, despite their bloody faces, grinned mercilessly down at her.

I coughed, adding my glare to hers. I was beaten again. And I was tired of it. However, I could only lay there, gritting my teeth in pain, as they grabbed her around the waist.

But Spitfire had other plans. She used her elbow like I had taught her, and hit the guard carrying her square in the face. After a month of doing mindless self defense, I was glad I had agreed to teach her a few things. But they wouldn't help. They would just prolong what was to come. I felt close to tears, but I kept my face angry and strong for Ash's sake.

"Ash!" I yelled, grunting as I turned, and doing the soldier crawl, I reached for her. But she didn't reach me. The other guard grabbed her, holding her wrists and smacking her delicate face with his free hand. She shrieked after each smack, but her cried became more pitfall after each one.

"Ash!" I screamed out, struggling to my feet, only to be tackled to the ground by a fresh guard, ten others behind him. I grunted and then cried out in pain as the heavy guard crushed my ribs.

Makarov chuckled, his nasally voice ever gentle and soft, but cold and calculating to my ears. "You fell for her, Price. Like I knew you would." He chided me like I was a child as I watched them carry Ash, who was now unconscious, away.

_**Russian Gulag**_

_**Last date known: 1996**_

_**Captain Price, AKA Prisoner 627**_

_**Status: MIA**_

_**Time and Date, Unknown**_**.**

Price awoke with a groan. He didn't remember what happened to him after he watched them drag Ash away, except that Cougar had taken a turn to a beating.

Cougar awoke with foul swearing. "Bloody 'ell, we just had our asses kicked!" He growled, reminding Price of Gaz, who had died on that bridge with Zakaiev.

Price said nothing, a tear escaping. "Ash.." He whispered feebly. "What 'av they done with you, Spitfire?"

Cougar stayed quiet, realizing Ash was gone immediately. He stood, swaying, but stumbled to the cell door, peeking through the small square, for any sign of life. There was none. Not even a guard.

Price sat up, feeling something wet and sticky trail down his chest. He lifted his black shirt, finding blood. "Bloody basta-" He didn't finish, slumping forward again as he lost consciousness.

-FEW HOURS LATER-

Price awoke, finding Lillian kneeling over him, a cut on her lip. "Easy, John." She murmured, dabbing his face gently with a rag. "You're safe for now.

Price immediately tensed, his face drawn with worry. "Cougar?" He choked out.

"Alive and bloody well here, mate." Cougar stepped forward, the shadows concealing him like when they had first met. "They let Lillian here in to look at our sorry arses to make sure we wasn't dead."

Lillian dropped her hand to her side. "Cougar told me about Ash." She whispered softly. "John, I'm so sorry."

"Ash is dead?" Price croaked out, surprise filling him as his voice, scratchy and tough, sounding nothing like his own.

"Yes, and her father. Makarov couldn't use the father anymore. He made a deal with her father, and he cleared Makarov's name in a world court. But something happened. Ash's mother and brother were killed in a crash, and the man refuses to work anymore for Makarov unless his daughter is with him, and Makarov can't threaten him with anything else. Makarov ordered Ash and her father to be killed.." Lillian said gently.

"How do you know?"

"I overheard Makarov arguing with one of his generals." She said softly. At the opening of the door, she stood. "I must go, John. Goodbye."

Price watched her go. The fact that Lillian told them this, that his Spitfire was dead, only made his head hurt worse.

"I'm truly sorry, mate." Cougar said softly, his voice soft. Emotionless.

"You aren't affected, are you?" Price asked him, anger in his voice.

Cougar sighed painfully. "No." He confessed. "Price, I tried to tell you. I warned you that first night, or day, whatever bloody hell it was. They would only use her to break _**you**_."

Price swallowed the words he wanted to scream at the man. "How did I get this cut on my chest?"

Cougar flinched. "Makarov found the knife, Price. He took it, and when you blacked out, he had some fun. Of course, he only did that when he had his men make sure you were out." He growled, hatred in his eyes. He got down, beginning to do push-ups. *_**Push-ups. At a time like this.***_ Price thought.

"Cougar."

Cougar ignored him, or couldn't hear him, he looked a dozen worlds away as he neared twenty-two push-ups.

"Chad!" Price yelled angrily, tensing as Cougar jumped up with deadly precision and wrapped his hands around Price's neck. Choking him. His friend.

Price choked, gasping for a breath, his hands trying to wrench Cougar's hands away.

"Don't. Ever. Call. Me. That. Again." Cougar threatened, his voice close. "Price, I'm sorry about Ash. I'm bloody sorry, alright?" He shoved Price back, and Price coughed violently, his hand massaging his throat, gasping in the air.

Cougar ran his hand through his hair. "I'm fucking sorry!" His voice cracked. "But I can't feel death, Price! I bloody can't! After I found out about the death of my team, I can't! I can't _**Feel**_ anything anymore, Price! I could have killed you right there and not have felt any remorse! That's what Makarov took from me, from all these goddam years in here, he took my humanity, Price. The only thing I had left." He broke down, walking to the corner and leaning against it, falling to the ground. "I can't care for anyone. He messed up my mind, Price. No matter how hard I try, I can't even miss or worry about my own bloody _**sister**_, Price."

Price slowly sat up, his chest burning. "But Cougar, you still have it. You still have something in you!" He said confidently. "Cougar, you wouldn't let me die. You got your sorry arse kicked for me. You would've felt something if you had killed me, Cougar. You're still human, not Makarov's bloody puppet. Don't let him win by falling apart now, Cougar. You're still Chad. A man. A human. A warrior." Price said softly.


	11. Snow Glows White Runs Red With Blood

I'm sorry to say, folks, Ash is really dead. This is now only Cougar and Price's story until Soap comes to rescue 627. Yes, I know, Cougar is a little loose in the brain *ducks from oncoming knife* but he's going to get even better in the upcoming chapters. Please keep reviewing so I know what to make better!

_**Russian Gulag**_

_**Last date known: 1996**_

_**Captain Price, AKA Prisoner 627**_

_**Status: MIA**_

_**Time and Date, Unknown**_**.**

Price rose. It had been a few days since Ash had been killed, by the rotation of the guards. They had been transferred to a different cell, one with 3 cots on the ground instead of an actual bed. He was feeling better, but still sore. He and Cougar grappled each other regularly, to keep in shape and focus. Cougar was the exact skill level as Price, possibly even more so, as Price could tell. For the first time since MacMillan, he admired someone. For the third time, Cougar put Price on his back.

"You bloody muppet." Price groaned, standing up in position again.

"Karate is simple against taekwondo, karate is like the baby form of it." Cougar responded.

Price groaned. "I knew that, mate. I thought we were just doing one form."

Cougar chuckled. "War changes."

"That it does, my friends." Alek's voice spoke through the cell door. "Come on, Makarov wants you outside."

Cougar stood stiffly as a guard came and shackled them both, handing the key to Alek.

"Now, Price, you try anything, Cougar here dies." Alek smirked, shoving them both forward.

"Maybe it's not him you need to worry about." Cougar growled.

"Same for you, Cougar, but vice versa." Alek chuckled. "Come on." He waved them ahead with a pistol.

Price shaded his eyes with his hands as he felt the sun warm his face. The air was freezing, and his pants became soaked from the deep snow. He licked his dry, cracked lips, thinking of the cleaner water he could get from the snow.

Cougar was shoved in the snow, and he spat out snow and wiped his face, glaring at the laughing guard who pushed him. He had trouble standing, the shackles keeping his movements limited.

Price helped him up, but held in a yelp of surprise as Cougar pulled him forward into the snow.

"You Bloody muppet!" Price roared, coughing snow out of his face and mouth as he froze. Cougar was laughing.

Cougar tried hard to stop, but couldn't. "Oi, Price, you look good in white hair old man." He wheezed, wiping his eyes.

Price rolled his eyes. His beard. Of course. It was now easily a good 5 inches long, and completely covered in white snow.

_~Whomph~ _

Price fell backward from the ball of snow hurled into his face. "You really want to do that, you bastard?" He growled, but amusement was in his voice.

"I probably wouldn't be making these snowballs if I didn't." Cougar replied matter-of-factly.

Price snorted, laughing. He couldn't believe they were having a snow ball fight while fighting for their lives as POWs in a gulag run by Vladimir Makarov.

Cougar let another one fly.

It hit Price square in the back. He fell again with an grunt, the shackled tripping him. "You bastard! That's cheating! I ain't even up yet!" Price grunted, struggling up again. He molded a snowball, keeping it to his chest, his back to Cougar.

Cougar idly molded a snowball. "You were stand-"

Price cut him off, whirling and throwing the snowball right into Cougar's open mouth. He fell in the snow again, trying to untangle the shackles, chuckling at Cougar's horrified, the pain-filled, expression.

"This mother-fucking stuff is cold!" He screeched, spitting it out frantically, eyes closed. His teeth tingles and hurt from the snow, and he used his handcuffed hand to help remove snow from his mouth. "You bastard!" He glared at Price, but laughter was in his eyes.

"Now who's winning?" Price chuckled, dodging another snowball from Cougar, but fell back in the snow, still limited by the shackles.

Cougar chuckled, finally standing up with the biggest Snowball he could possibly make. "Killer is her name." He name the snowball, then threw it.

Price ducked, then heard a terrible screech of surprise and anger coming from behind him as the snowball hit a guard's face. "Bullocks."

"I WILL KEEL YOU FAGGOOTTTSSSS!" The guard roared, blinded by snow, as his buddies kept their guns on Price and Cougar, and helped him wipe away the snow.

Cougar's mouth twitched, laughter and malice in his eyes.

"Oi, Suzy, you shoulda ducked."

Cougar burst out laughing at Price's words, but quieted as another guard marched over to him.

"Back to your cells." He ordered in broken English. "No more." He punched Cougar down, hard, then shoved him up and poked his gun hard into his back.

Alek walked up to Price, shaking his head. "Stupid American soldiers. Always start fights and the SAS joins." He smiled, amusement in his eyes.

"I agree, mate. We start the fight." Price's hand flashed like lighting as he punched Alek with such a blow, it knocked him off his feet. Alek did not move. Price quickly grabbed Alek's pistol, and shot the guard keeping Cougar.

Cougar whirled, grabbing the gun before the wounded guard had a chance to shoot, and aimed it at Alek's head. "Don't move!" He yelled in Russian, threatening to shoot Alek.

Price knocked down the guard who had threatened them, taking his Ak47 with an enhanced sniper scope. "Thanks mate." He stuck the pistol into the back if his belt, and backed up to Cougar. "Drop your guns here." He pointed to the ground.

Cougar translated, his eyes hard and cold. "Now lay down."

The guards did so, but glanced longingly at the alarm. They couldn't reach it.

Price grinned. "Treeline, go."

Cougar grabbed the key, unlocking Price then himself. "Go, I'm right behind you."

Price took off at a run, his leg almost foreign to him. It had been a long time since he had ran, and his side began to hurt again, the unfamiliar movement making his still tender skin stretch and hurt.

Cougar kept easily a little ways behind. As soon as they reached the tree line bordering the gulag, the siren's blared. "Go go go!" Cougar screamed, shoving Price ahead. "The cliff! Goddam it, I forgot the cliff!"

Price breathed heavily, the snow getting deeper and harder to run through. "The dogs, Cougar! How long?"

"About 10 minutes if we are lucky! The dogs will have trouble with the snow, but will find our paths!" He glance over the edge of the cliff. "There's at least a good 5 feet of snow at the bottom, Price. We jump, we will make it. If there's nothing under the snow, like rocks." Cougar whirled around, spotting two, giant, wof-like dogs racing as fast as they could through the snow towards them."

"If we shoot, they will know where we are. Jump for it!" Price yelled, jumping off the cliff.

Cougar closed his eyes, then jumped, straddling the ak47 close as he hit the snow. And suck in 6 feet of snow.

"Bloody good job mate!" Price said, relief in his eyes. "It's deeper than you though, like landing in a pillow, mate." He climbed out of the hole. "How big a drop ya think?"

"Easily a 60 foot drop." Cougar said breathlessly. "Lets go. We need to keep moving, Price. We are far from safe. If anything, our race through hell is just beginning."


	12. Icy Memories

_**Woods surrounding the gulag.**_

_**Last date known: 1996**_

_**Captain Price, AKA Prisoner 627**_

_**Status: MIA**_

_**Night**_

Price shivered once. He still had his combat jacket, but bullet holes riddled it. Cougar only had the standard issued Russian jacket, given to inmates who didn't come with their own heavy clothes. They trudged through the snow, trying to keep their bare hands from freezing.

"Price." Cougar croaked out. "Price, I-I need to stop. I can't make it any farther, Price." He collapsed in the snow, the AK47 dropped beside him.

Price turned around. They were both freezing. And hungry. And tired. "Come on, Cougar. Just keep with me mate till sundown." Price mumbled, helping him up. He had long ago dropped the pistol, and had his AK47 strapped to his back. But they only had the full clips that was in the guns only. They were basically defenseless.

Cougar trudged on, his face lined with fatigue.

A few hours later, the sun began to set. "Lets find a good spot to sleep for the night, mate." Price murmured to Cougar.

Cougar nodded. "If we head deeper into the woods, we can use the tree trunks and roots to help cover our tracks."

Price nodded. He stepped on a root and promptly fell, exhaustion making him unable to catch himself. "Bloody stupid trees!" He swore.

Cougar laughed dryly, hoarsely. "Yep, mate, you hurt their feelings." He carefully tested his footing, painfully making his way across the icy roots.

"Know where we're going?"

Cougar nodded. "Yes. I escaped once, but I didn't have another chance till now. Many, many years later, but I can still remember." He got a distant look in his eyes. "Being scared for the first time since my dad was executed. Excited. Almost happy with the thrill of running away. I did this exact same thing, to hide my tracks."

"What did you do next?

"Well, I avoided dogs." Cougar chuckled, finding a good spot to rest. "It's basic hell 101 out here, mate. But this time, I'm not escaping alone. Which makes it worth my life." Cougar glanced at Price. "No dogs, so they will be leashed by now. Slows 'em down, but makes them more accurate."

Price sighed, leaning his head against a tree. "Bloody hell, I hate dogs anyway."

Cougar chuckled, his eyes already closed. "Same here, mate, same here."

**~FEW HOURS LATER~**

Price awoke with the full moon shining brightly on them. Cougar was covered in a thin blanket of snow, shivering. Price removed his jacket, putting it over Cougar. "Stay with me mate." He whispered.

"Price." Cougar croaked. "I'm sorry Price. I'm not as much help out here as I thought."

Price numbly shook his head. "No! Don't say that to me Cougar! We're gonna be alright, we're gonna be fine! Just. Stay. With. Me." His voice broke at the end.

Cougar simply sighed. "I'm tired of this, Price. We have the gun. We have the bullets. Why not just end this now? Painlessly, almost effortlessly." He opened his bright, striking eyes. "I'm tired, Price." He murmured, pushing Price's jacket back to him.

Price wordlessly accepted the jacket, slipping it back on. "Not much longer now, Cougar. We will make it. Just don't leave me." He pleaded.

Cougar exhaled slowly. "For now, Price. I won't go just yet. I promise, mate." Cougar held Price's gaze for a bit, then shakily stood up. "Hand me that knife. I'm heading to the river."

Price looked at him worriedly. "You're not gonna…" He said softly.

"Are you daft?" Cougar retorted. "Of course not. If I'm gonna die out here, I'm gonna die looking like me old self." He gave a humorful tug at his long beard. "Off with this and my womanly hair. Suits you just fine, but not a real man like me." He teased, limping off towards the nearby river.

Price sat back down. After a few minutes, he head Cougar approaching.

"It's a little rough around the edges, but it's meh, mate."

Price looked up. Cougar had washed his face, hair, and neck, the dirt gone and wet dispite the cold. Cougar's dirty blonde hair stuck out hazardously, some bits longer than others due to the knife cut. He had a relatively handsome face, and his beard cropped quite close to his chin, along with a few fresh nicks and cuts from the job. Price's mouth hung for a moment.

"Oi, its harder than it looks." Cougar chuckled nervously.

"You're human now." Price stuttered, surprised by his good looks and era of calm about him. "And here I thought you were some ugly devil dog only in for his bruteness."

Cougar chuckled. "That too. You're turn. I ain't ever seen you like you must usually be like. Lemme see. Might as well get your ugly mug shot stuck in my 'ead 'fore I die." He chuckled, tossing him the blade carefully.

Price caught it. "Not much to look at. Soap was cuter." He chuckled, remembering how only what seemed like yesterday before the fateful mission, he had taken MacTavish for a drink, and what happened when girls fell for the drunken MacTavish.

PRICE'S POV….

LONG BEFORE MISSION  
TIME AND DATE TOO DRUNK TO KNOW  
"Oi, you bastard, still can't hold your drink, can ya mate?" Price chuckled to Soap, who was drowning himself with a shot of stout.

"I'ma fine, you cheeky bastard." Soap slurred, stumbling on nothing and ready to hit the floor if Hatchet hadn't caught him.

"Price! Teach your boy how to handle his drinks, for Christ's sakes sir!" He laughed, alcohol on his breath, handling Soap to the counter.

"You mother fuckers gonna have one hell of a hangover." Observed Stryker, who sat silently in the corner. He sipped something from his cold glass.

"And just what you drinking, mate? A larger?" Soap laughed, spittle flying. 

"No." Stryker responded disgustedly. "I don't drink. Water." He splashed it in Soap's face, or what was left of it. "I'm going back. You kids don't stay out too late."

Price roared with laughter at Stryker's back as he exited the bar. "Soap, you just got your arse handed to you Mate!"

Soap grinned wickedly, then yelped as a young woman ran her hands up his chest. They had ignored everyone that night but Soap. "Wanna dance, hot stuff?"

Soap blushed furiously, he didn't know how to talk to women.

Copter laughed. "No, he doesn't dance, Ma'am."

"I asked him." The girl eyes him keenly. "What about it, mister?"

"Back off, whor-" Hatchet began, but was punched out by a giant of a man. "What the fuck dude!"

"That's my girlfriend you son of a bitch." the man growled, even bigger than Soap.

"She asked me." Soap slurred, punching the man's stomach. The man didn't even flinch.

"You're drunk, SAS." The man growled.

Price gazed at the man. "Army Rangers, huh?" He snorted. The Army Rangers and them hadn't gotten along so far.

The man grinned. "Yep. And if you wanna live, get your asses outta here."

Soap shook his head drunkenly. "Not a chance, fat mate." He words began to run together, and his face got on a green tint.

"Hatchet, take Soap out back before he embarrassed himself." Price chuckled, turning to the man. "And keep your comments to yourself, Cheeky bastard."

The man swung again, his cheating girlfriend cheering him on.

Price ducked easily. Even when drunk, he could hold his own. "Oi Suzy, you 'it like your yuppy girlfriend." Price slurred, grinning as he gave him a punch of his own. The man went down hard, groaning.

Hatchet came back in. "Hey, Capt, Soap threw up and passed out. We're ready to head back. He still can't hold his liquor." Hatchet guffawed loudly.

Price shook the sting from his fist. "Lets go then, mate." He turned and followed Hatchet out.

Soap was gray in the face and mumbling nonsense all the way back to base.


End file.
